


Valentine's Fool

by TariTheNurse



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Casual drinking, Dare, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Lemons, Meet the Family, Mutual Pining, Smut, Tropes, admitting to feelings, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22722439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariTheNurse/pseuds/TariTheNurse
Relationships: Sam Wilson/Reader
Kudos: 13





	Valentine's Fool

_I should have known it would backfire!_ Stomping back and forth in the cramped space of the elevator, you barely notice the door opening let alone whoever you march past (accidentally shouldering them) when you hurry to get out before it is too late. _Crapcrapcrap._

The hallway is comparable with a long tunnel without discerning details – a fact you logically know not to be true. The boom of the door to your quarters closing is reduced to a soft thud…unfortunately echoed moments later when Sam bursts in.

… Flashback …

”ExCUSE ME?!” The words were hurled at you echoing through the kitchen.

Rounding on him, your fists were balled tightly. ”Excuse you? Excuse YOU?” At least he backed up a tiny bit. ”You want me to pretend to be your DATE?! No. Scratch that…your part of a DOUBLE date?”

Having been friends for half a decade, it should not have come as a surprise that Sam had talked himself right into trouble of the most embarrassing kind. Steve, Bucky and you had saved his ass more than once though he rarely got any of you involved before giving some kind of warning. So yeah, of course there was more to it. It was obvious the moment he shuffled the feet, suddenly more interested in the floor than the argument.

“Well…” he mumbled, “I might’ve told my coisin we’re…steady.”

“And then y’wonder why’m NOT won over by the promise of CAKE?”

“It’s the b–“

“I DON’T CARE what sorta cake it is!”

He still managed to slip out “triple-brownie caramel”, and while you might not have cared, your stomach was certainly paying attention all of a sudden. _Should’ve had a snack after training._ He sensed the shift within you –used to dealing with two super soldier’s food urges – gently nudging the flaring cravings by describing every single detail until drool started to fill your mouth faster than you wanted to swallow.

In the end, he managed to convince you after promising to owing all of two favours – no questions asked.

…

You arrived early on Valetine’s day, bringing a backpack full of random personal belongings and a few real and photoshopped pictures: all of it a part of the elaborate cover story that you, idiotically, had accepted to adhere to. In some twisted way, that was the easiest part because of the many missions in the name of the Avengers. _This is too personal,_ but you would be damned if you gave up now and let down Sam…and miss out on the cake.

…

Everything was pretty much perfect with the setup making the two of you look like a couple sharing places randomly but often, and of course Sam’s cousin (Kaylah) was brilliant and her girlfriend funny. What could have been a tedious evening evolved into something closer to second nature with the only difference being the physical proximity of Sam though small touches and handholding.

There was nothing strange about it, actually. You got physical with Sam (and other Avengers) on a daily basis due to sparring, and movie nights often included semi-wrestling for the good spot on the couch (plus if the movie was boring, people would fall asleep more or less on each other).

“Jeez,” Kaylah admonished Sam, quickly stealing the glass with the last bit of white wine from him and passing it to you, “you gotta learn to share, man.”

Agreeing with her, you winked at the wineless guy. “That’s what I try to tell him…but really he ain’t _all_ bad.”

“Bloody hope not! I taught him ev’rythin’ about datin’ and stuff.”

Kaylah’s girlfriend turned around with terror on her face, making you sober up until: “Oh, I’m so _so_ sorry, sweetie [Y/N]! How did y’ever get _this_ far??”

“Haar haar!” The couple bickered lovingly back and forth, while you enjoyed a chance to usher Sam to the kitchen for more to drink for all of you.

Yes, no hitches in the plan.

Not until Sam (tailed by his cousin) had to squeeze past you in the kitchen, his fingers curling around your hipbone…and it ignited something within, making you sigh a little to audibly. Next thing you knew, the two other women were peeking around the corner (“discreetly”, according to their wine-laced minds) to spy on Sam kissing you.

It was not that you had to kiss to keep a cover. It was not even the fact that it was Sam Freaking Wilson, one of your best friends.

No.

The thing that caught you by surprise was how right it felt as the pretend kiss developed, drawing him closer to you or vice versa. Your little moan, which he swallowed so neatly, did not even register until he pulled away with that soft look in his eyes.

… Now …

“What’s goin’ on? All rest of th’evenin’ t’was like Antarctica sittin’ next to ya! Gotta _talk_ to me, sugar.” The nickname is far from strategic unless his hope is to shut you up instead.

You recover from fish-mode, finding the use of your voice once more. “Oh, _I’m_ sorry. I thought it’d be better to cool things down b’fore your cous’ dared you to go _further!_”

_I’m behaving like a teenager!_ But the little logical voice in your mind is drowned out by the turmoil that is making your knees weak and pushing your heart to beat like you have run a mile. Sam is your friend. He has been for ages and has never ever made a move to indicate that he would be interested in more than a platonic relationship, so it is uncalled for that your body or hormones suddenly want more. _Need to get my head straight._

Where you cannot think, the man before you seems plenty capable of it. “Yeah. She dared me…didn’t hear ya complain, though.”

“Wh-…that’s a low blow even for you, Wilson.”

“Maybe, but tell me I’m wrong, then,” he insists, confidently stepping closer, “tell me ya didn’t feel anythin’…t’was just me?”

He has got you against the window, but you are still searching for an answer when his words register with you, playing on a loop until it is certain you heard right.

It is like seeing him in a new light, finally unveiled with every subtle detail on display: the slight gap between the front teeth which is nothing short of perfection because it adds a boyish charm to his smiles; the searching flicker in those warm, dark eyes boring into your soul.

“C’mon, babe…I didn’t just ask ya to help me ‘cause ya like _cake_…”

“…was a good cake…”

“I can get ya somethin’ better if you’ll let me.”

Hot hands have found yours, skin caressing skin and sending little sparks of comfort with the rush of blood to nestle in your chest, and though your heart still is galloping it is not because of anger anymore. Sam is a hair’s width away. You can smell the coffee on his breath that he had with the triple-brownie caramel cake – both dessert and lips delicious as sin according to your experience. It is impossible to glance at the lopsided smirk and not want to enjoy the gentle greed of his mouth in action one more time.

You do not know when you began nibbling on your lower lip, you just know that he pulls it free from your teeth with the soft brush of a thumb before holding you close enough to feel his heartbeat mix with your own. Wild and passionate. In contrast, the kiss is hesitant as if he is afraid of rejection even now. _Or to give me a chance to back out? _There is no going back. The bridge is crossed and ablaze, and you are ready to dance in the scorching heat.

“Don’t hold back, please,” you mumble against his lips, moulding against him with a firm grip of his neck and a satisfying squeeze to his butt. _What an ass!_

As the dam finally bursts, any and all indecision are swept away to make room for pure lust. Sam’s hands are everywhere though favouring your hips in an effort to create friction between your pelvises where an increasingly prominent bulge calls for attention without getting any. Not yet. You are both too busy exploring the reactions conjured by increasingly slobby kisses anywhere with access to skin – so caught up that you barely register when Sam moves you until your calves hit the bed and you tumble onto it. He is out of breath (just like you) with swollen lips and heavy lidded eyes that only let go of you the few seconds it takes to pull the shirt over his head.

_Hot damn._

Oh, you have seen him shirtless before and even admitted to yourself then how good looking he is. Gorgeous and off limits – just like all your teammates. Knowing that this time Sam is all yours to touch and adore? It is overwhelming and sends sweet waves of heated impatience to your core. Sitting up, he is only out of reach until grabby hands and a pout has done the job to bring him to stand between your knees.

Rapid fingers manage to make short work of the belt and zipper before he stops you. The roguish charm will be the end of you some day, but you feel more alive than ever as he takes over and removes your shirt before his jeans. A quick lift and shove sends you properly sprawled out on the bed and you obediently lift your hips so he can pull down the skirt and pantyhose in one go.

“Daymn, your sexy too!”

“Is that your way of fishing for a compliment, Wilson?”

Surprise flickers before laughter takes over. “Feel free to shower me with ya sweet words…but I did mean _you._” Sam has taken to kiss and caress his way up your legs, giving you a generous view to the flex of his back muscles. “Smart,” he punctuates with a soft bite to the inner thigh, “funny,” once more he pauses, “strong,” this time he has reached the fabric of your underwear and kisses your pussy through it, “everythin’…and fuckin’ gorgeous too.”

The heat, which has been centered around your core, spreads to your face at the sound of the adoring words. Any reciprocating compliment is halted as Sam surges up to reclaim your lips, and amidst dazzling tongue action and teasing bites he tells you, no…begs you, to just accept the praises because “this is all about you, sugar”.

Your friend/lover/partner/boyfriend takes his time to explore all of your body and remove the last bit of clothing, turning you lazily around to trace the length of your spine or seat you in his lap while his cock nestles between the folds until you moan in delirious anticipation. By the time he finally aligns with your craving pussy, Sam hands have massaged their right into every cell of you – traced it onto your clit with his tongue.

“Yeah?” It is a whisper against your throat.

“Yes,” you confirm, already anchored to him with bruising grips. _Oh, yes please!_

With all of his attention tuned in to your reactions, the gentle lover eases his cock in as he takes time for both of you to adjust before the game of learning continues. Each of you chase the keening sounds of the other as bodies find a common rhythm and soon, surprisingly so, the coil in your core snaps to release waves of pleasure.

A guttural groan escapes Sam, “Oh, fu-uck!” You can barely feel through your own high how he stutters, face buried in the crook of your shoulder. “Damn, princess…”

When he resurfaces to meet your gaze moments later, you can see a hint of chagrin in his eyes.

“You’re amazing!” You do not give him time to protest. “It’s hard to ‘magine round two’s going to be even better now the pent up need’s blown.”

Sam’s crooked smirk is back in a second. “I’m sure we can beat all records, sugar.”


End file.
